


Getting the (Good) News

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2014 [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: Friendship, Multi, Season/Series 04, Show Choir Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2014. He may still be negotiating this thing with Blaine, but Kurt found he liked hearing the news from his ex best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting the (Good) News

Kurt waited until 12:30 to send the text: **How was the dance?**

An answer came quickly: _Fine. Good. Can you talk?_

He hesitated. He was sort of on a date, and he wasn’t really sure that chatting with your ex fit into proper date protocols. Before he could reply, though, his phone chimed.

_Sorry. Don’t mean now. We’re crammed 6 to a booth in this all-nite diner nr Dayton. Ryder’s idea._

And a few seconds later: _Which means Tina is reading over my shoulder. But think youd like to hear news? Tmrw?_

He glanced up at Adam across the room at the bar, arguing (flirting, really) with the bartender. His curiosity getting the better of him, he typed a reply: **Can’t wait to hear. I’ll call you say at 10? Or too early? Is this really an all-nighter?**

_Ha. 10 will be fine. Just a warning: be prepared for squealing and other various signs of delight._

He was just slipping the phone back into his pocket when it chimed one more time: _And don’t read anyones texts. Pls. I want to be first._

______________________________________________________

Kurt was in an excellent mood the next morning, and not as hungover as he was sure poor Adam was. The English boy should really stop trying to find the right microbrew that would convert Kurt to a beer drinker. His natural frugality required him to drink his own and Kurt’s rejected flights of ale and porter and the earliest season Boks. With the expected results.

Despite his distaste for the sour brews, Kurt had had fun. He liked checking out the different looks and ambience of the pubs even as he reserved judgment on the tragically similar fashion choices by the men. Adam had made it his business to find pubs with different looks: vintage or art deco, old wood or polished steel. Kurt's mind had raced with design ideas, and his hands itched to record those ideas. But there was no time for that: Adam, and the other Apples who joined them at—was it the second? Or third pub?—were such fun, lighthearted in a way Kurt thought he’d never been. They reminded him of some of the Dalton boys, overgrown puppies—and of Sam a bit. And as the night went on, Kurt found, Adam’s innate flirtiness and charm increased, his lovely smile and focus whenever Kurt spoke, the silly pouty frown at another beer rejection, and the feel of his broad chest as he pulled Kurt close in the crowded rooms. Kurt had felt alive with the newness here, with how his desire and the sense of possibility hummed just under his skin.

Still, he had been content to turn a sloppy, happy Adam over to his flatmate Tim and to grab a late night bus home to a dark, quiet loft, with Rachel asleep and no sign of Brody. Before going to bed, he’d sat at the table and checked his phone. Blaine hadn’t been kidding: There were notifications of messages and voicemails from Tina, Artie, and Finn. Something Glee-related, then. He resisted the temptation to learn what they said, and instead placed notes to Rachel all around the loft: in her room, on the bathroom mirror, and pinned to the curtain of his room.

I’M UNDER A NEWS BLACKOUT FROM MCKINLEY

UNTIL AFTER 10:30 TOMORROW.

**ANTI-SPOILER ALERT**

DON’T RUIN MY FUN RACHEL, OR SO HELP ME…

LOVE YOU. K. 

_____________________________________________________

The wisdom of that approach was evident in the morning. She was unable to keep the squeal in when she woke at 9:00, but thankfully she quickly got into the spirit of the NO SPOILERS thing. Still, after the fourth pretty obvious hint was dropped, he’d thrust the shopping bags and a list at her, promising to make her favorite warming carrot soup for dinner if she just made herself scarce for an hour.

The door closed behind her, and he made himself comfortable on the couch before dialing the familiar number. Blaine waited for 2 rings before he picked up, but his breathless “Kurt! Hi!” made it obvious he’d been sitting by the phone, eager to the point of bursting with the news he had to share.

“How was the dance? Sam didn’t suddenly elope with anyone else, did he?”

“The dance was—it was actually great. Tina just outdid herself. And Sam couldn’t elope. We had to be there—president and vice president, you know.”

“And Tina behaved?”

“I—what? She was the perfect date. Perfect _platonic_ date.”

Kurt smiled to himself; Blaine’s natural politeness would cause him to put off his news indefinitely if Kurt just asked the right questions. But curiosity finally won out over the urge to tease his friend.

He laughed. “Okay, then, Blaine. Spill.”

“So you know how Sam was sure the Warblers had cheated somehow? Turns out, he was right.”

“I knew it. They were lip-synching. I know those boys. The dance moves Tina described were right out of Dakota Stanley’s playbook. No way they could have kept that up and stayed in tune. Not our step-touch boys.”

“Kurt. Kurt. Think worse than just a violation of the show choir rules.”

“Like a crime? Blaine!”

“Sam and I were looking again at their performance at Sectionals, and his eagle eye noticed that Trent didn’t perform. Can you imagine how that happened? He loves the Warblers.”

Kurt stopped him. “Wait. Is this the point at which you tell me that sweet-faced Trent was found in a landfill or something?” To Blaine’s laughing protests, he went on. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but—this sounds like a popcorn story. Is it too early for you?“

Blaine laughed, that wet, fond little giggle of his, and Kurt could hear him bounding down the stairs to his kitchen. He got up and poured popcorn into the air popper himself.

“Should we have something to drink?” Blaine asked as he started the microwave.

“Sure? Diet Coke for me—juice for you?”

“No. I barely slept. I think I’ll go with Coke too.”

Kurt leaned against his counter with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to the homey sounds of Blaine moving around the kitchen. “Hey, while we’re waiting—you never described what people wore.”

“Well, Tina was beautiful in this dark blue frock; one shoulder, bling on the strap.”

“And you?”

“You know me. I went classic black tie. A lot of guys did—well, they wore black anyway. And, um, a lot of blue and silver dresses or black with crystals. You know. Fit the theme.”

“Flower?” he asked as he poured his popcorn into a bowl.

“Tina bought me a gardenia.”

“Oh. I bet it looked nice, classy even against the dark tux. But—ouch. Do you know what—“

Blaine’s answer was clipped. “Secret love. I know. We read that book on the secret language of flowers together, Kurt.”

He heard the ding of Blaine’s microwave and then the sound of his friend pulling down a bowl and pouring the popcorn. He used the time to let himself worry a little bit. “That’s not okay, Blaine. Were you clear about…”

“Kurt. She’s known me for years. She knows I’ve been in— Well, she knows I’m gay. She’s just lonely. This year hasn’t exactly gone her way.”

“Still…” He took a deep breath. “You know what? I’m gonna let it go. You can handle Tina.” It wasn’t like it was REALLY his business at all any more. He carried his drink and popcorn back over to the couch and settled down, pulling the warm fleece blanket over him. “You comfy?”

Blaine laughed. “You sound like you’re nice and nested. I’d say we could skype so I could see how cozy you are, but I haven’t showered yet, and not even my dog wants to see this hair. Anyway, back to my tale. Where was I?”

“Trent was leaving the Warblers.”

“Oh. Except he DIDN’T leave. He was thrown out by that Dr. Evil wannabe Hunter Clarington—and get this: it’s because Clarington was making the boys all take performance-enhancing drugs, and Trent wouldn’t do it.”

“Get out!”

“An actual PED scandal in the Ohio Show Choir circuit. Can you believe it?”

“Wow. So what happened?”

“It was all Trent. He agreed to come to Finn, tell him the whole story.”

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know. Trent has to go to Headmaster Price, I guess. And to the police. Poor guy.”

“He could have spoken up sooner.”

Blaine was silent for a long time. “I think, I think he just hasn’t wanted to believe it. Plus he was torn. I can see not wanting to drag the honor of the Warblers through the mud. He was always so proud to be a Warbler.”

“I guess I can see that. But I haven’t seen much recently to be proud of, Blaine. The tampered slushie, the many attempts to poach you, and now this?”

“Oh, if you’d just seen him last night. He’s just a small, round-faced Trent puppy. But I think he’s steeling himself. If this works, he’ll save them. This one black mark can’t destroy the legacy of the Warblers forever.”

“Not just one black mark.” He saw in his mind’s eye the Warblers turning away in that parking garage last year, and it made him mulish.

“Kurt.” He sighed.

“It’s just—it feels like the famous Warbler legacy is just a fantasy, a myth.”

“But it wasn’t—you know that. You lived it.”

Now it was Kurt’s turn to be silent.

“I remember, Kurt. I remember the way you looked at Wes and David that afternoon, as they talked about zero tolerance. THAT was our legacy. And you know, there was something more. Our council was made up of two first-generation Dalton boys of color along with Thad, who was born knowing Dalton was waiting for him. And they made their lead soloist this ridiculous little guy—a gay hapa. The Warblers were great because we believed in the code of honor. And because they gave us all a chance to live up to that code. I thought we helped you, Kurt, even a little bit, to find yourself again.”

Kurt hadn’t heard such passion in Blaine’s voice in a long time. “In that case, I think you should help him.”

“Another job for Nightbird?”

“No, just you, former lead soloist, lover of tradition and honor. It would be better if Trent didn’t have to stand alone, if some of the guys involved stepped forward. Like Nick and Jeff.”

“That’s—that might work. I always thought at least one of the three of them would be on the Council. They do love Dalton, even if they can be a little empty-headed.”

“But enough about Dalton. Let’s get down to what this means for McKinley.”

And as if she had been summoned, Rachel slid the door back and called out, “McKinley High New Directions are back in the game!” She raised her arms in triumph, the shopping bags abandoned at her feet.

Blaine chuckled down the line. “Sounds like more than one show choir legacy can be saved.”


End file.
